


Super Normal Idiots

by Volpe_Scuro



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Secret Identity, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volpe_Scuro/pseuds/Volpe_Scuro
Summary: Two days ago she'd been procrastinating on course work and planning a bus trip up from Dublin to Derry with Veronica to watch a band in a grimy bar. Two days ago she'd been Lena Luthor, with a loving father, indifferent mother, and a sane, non-murderous brother. Two days ago a bomb had gone off in Metropolis, and Lionel Luthor's private security detail had burst into her private dorm room in the middle of the night because her brother was a murderer and a terrorist, and she needed to disappear because her life was in danger. She'd been bundled into one of six identical cars which all headed in different directions, and handed over to the American agents at the airport, who had provided her with documents and deposited her here, in nowheresville, small town America, in the house of a woman she didn't know and a new life she couldn't recognise.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 21
Kudos: 122





	1. Ordinary World

**Author's Note:**

> (It's my first time, be gentle with me.)

Lena emptied the contents of the last duffle bag into the scarred wardrobe in her new bedroom, and shoved the bag under the bed. Her breathing was even, her movements precise. She was calm. She could feel part of herself deep inside screaming and slamming itself against the icy walls inside her chest, but on the surface she was cool and collected. It wasn't the first time her life had spun away from her and turned upside down when she wasn't looking, and if she could survive her mother's death, the orphanage, and life under Lillian Luthor this should be no problem. She forced a deep breath, fished in her pocket for the small rectangle of plastic she had shoved in there earlier, and allowed herself to focus on it for the first time. 

It was a driving licence, her driving licence. Correction - her new driving licence, in the name of Helena Lockhart.  
"Helena, so you can still go by Lena," the agent who gave it to her had explained. "And Lockhart, so you don't have to worry too much about screwing up your last initial. We've found that a little consistency goes a long way when it comes to adjusting."  
Lena had just nodded, slumped back in her economy class seat, and stared down at the Atlantic Ocean as the plane carried her on to America. 

Two days ago she'd been procrastinating on course work and planning a trip up from Dublin to Derry with Veronica to watch a band in a grimy bar. Two days ago she'd been Lena Luthor, with a loving father, indifferent mother, and a sane, non-murderous brother. Two days ago a bomb had gone off in Metropolis, and Lionel Luthor's private security detail had burst into her private dorm room in the middle of the night because her brother was a murderer and a terrorist, and she needed to disappear because her life was in danger. She'd been bundled into one of six identical cars which all headed in different directions, and handed over to the American agents at the airport, who had provided her with documents and deposited her here, in nowheresville, small town America, in the house of a woman she didn't know and a new life she couldn't recognise. 

There was a light tap-tapping on the bedroom door and her aunt Jess, her birth mother's best friend, who she didn't know existed this time yesterday, popped her head into the room, looking apologetic.  
"Are you settling in okay? I know it's probably not what you're used to…" her voice trailed off, casting her eyes around at the old, but good furnishings, and slightly threadbare carpet and curtains. She cleared her throat and continued. "I hope you can be comfortable here, at least."

Lena's heart ached, almost imperceptibly. She could see Jess was trying. It couldn't be easy for her either, having an 18 year old unceremoniously dumped on her with barely any warning, especially when said 18 year old was the sister of the country's latest high profile mass murderer.  
"It's lovely," Lena said, trying for a reassuring smile. "Compared to the boarding school I basically grew up in, this might as well be a room at the Ritz."  
It was true too, the house was no Luthor mansion but big and spacious nonetheless, with high airy ceilings and a balcony for each bedroom. Lena's was surrounded by an ivy covered trellis, and her practiced eye suggested that it would certainly hold her weight if and when she needed a less conventional entrance or egress from the house than the front door. Jess - Aunt Jess, she reminded herself - gave her a smile so warm Lena's heart stuttered for a moment, and she wondered if Lillian had ever looked at her half as kindly as Jess was as she asked Lena if pizza would be alright for dinner, because Midvale's local pizza parlor was 'just the best.'

Lena nodded and then sunk down onto the mattress of the double bed she could now call her own as Aunt Jess wandered back downstairs to call in their delivery order. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here, she thought. Jess seemed really nice, and maybe she could learn more about her mother, her real mother, from this strange, kind, warm woman willing to take her in. She'd never really felt like a Luthor on her best days anyway, and Lillian had never let her forget that she really wasn't one, so maybe she could stop trying to be, and just be herself, whoever that was. 

She thought about the meagre belongings she had brought with her, because in truth she had already left her old self behind. Anything that had been a remnant of her Luthor identity hadn't made it into her suitcases as she'd packed, the designer shirts and skirts Lillian had insisted on lay in a pile in a room somewhere over the ocean, along with the heels, contact lenses, and hair iron she had used every day to don what she had thought of as her Luthor Uniform. The old wardrobe in the corner of her new bedroom held only the clothes she had never dared let Lillian ever see her in, jeans and sneakers, hoodies, leather jackets, boots and T-shirts emblazoned with the emblems of bands and video games that no member of the Luthor family would ever be seen dead in. It was almost a relief. 

Lena Luthor was no more. Long live Helena Lockhart. 

***

A Luthor never engaged in manual labor, but Lena barely lasted three days alone in the house, flipping between the seemingly thousands of channels in an increasing state of depression, before she begged Jess to allow her to come along and help in the bookstore. She spent the days hauling boxes and stacking shelves, and although she’d never done so much backbreaking work in her life, at least she fell into bed at night so exhausted that she didn’t have the energy to think, or dream. 

She’d taken to spending her lunch breaks at a cafe around the corner from the store, curling up at a corner table and shielding herself from the nosy looks any local in her vicinity sent her way with a book as her tea steamed away on the table in front of her. She'd read that small towns could be like this, but it made her feel like she'd grown an extra head or turned purple and just hadn't noticed. At least the staff at Noonan's had decided they were more interested in taking her money than figuring out if she was an alien. 

So when she was at her favourite corner table and halfway through her favourite novel on a Friday afternoon, earphones firmly in place, broadcasting the universal signal of someone wishing to be left alone and a shadow fell across her, she didn't bother looking up.  
"I'm still good thanks, I'll shout if I need anything," she said, absently turning a page as her eyes skated along the text. It took a moment, but she realized that the shadow hadn't moved, and was speaking to her. She sighed, pulled a single earphone out of her left ear, and looked up. 

A dark haired young man was towering over her, standing uncomfortably close and foisting his best attempt at a charming smile in her direction. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as he started to speak.  
"Hi there," he said, running a hand through his hair, teeth sparkling under the fluorescent lights, before he thrust it in her direction. "I'm Mike. You're new in town? That's a cool accent you've got."

Lena Luthor had dealt with guys like him before, been forced to smile and simper and play nice with the arrogant sons of rich businessmen for the good of Luthor Corp, but Helena Lockhart had no such obligations. She looked at his hand, and back up at him.  
"Is there something I can do for you?" she said, apathy dripping from every syllable. He seemed to be impervious to it, maybe it was an American thing, because he grinned wider and stepped closer. The back of Lena's seat tapped against the wall behind her as she leaned away. 

"Well I was wondering if you like basketball, because I play for the Midvale Meteors and we -" he began.  
"I don't," she said flatly, moving to reinsert her errant earphone and get back to the fantastical land of Lancre between the pages of her book.  
"Oh," he said, his face falling for a second. "Well, maybe you wanna get a -"  
"Tell me Mark," Lena interrupted, cruising right by his whine of 'It's Mike' and continuing. "I ask in the spirit of pure speculation, but is a woman reading a book while wearing earphones broadcasting some desire to be accosted by total strangers in this country?" 

At a table across the cafe Kara Danvers winced. James, Winn and Maggie were all staring at her, waiting for her to relay the conversation she had tuned into from across the room with her superhuman hearing. Money was riding on the results.  
"She thought he was the waiter," she said, and three shining faces grimaced. "And she called him Mark."  
"Harsh," Winn said, tugging the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands.  
"What a boss," Maggie quipped, raising her coffee cup in the direction of the dark haired young woman. "I'll take my money now." She reached her hands out to Winn, who pulled twenty dollars out of his pocket and surrendered it with a sigh, and then James, who shrugged.  
"I say she's playing hard to get, and she's gonna cave when she finds out he plays for the Meteors," he said, shooting Kara an inquiring look. She grinned.  
"Pay the lady, Olsen," she said, blue eyes glittering with mirth. "She's not interested, and I think she's pissed."  
"How are you so sure she’s not just playing it cool?" James asked, reluctantly peeling a bill out of his wallet and dropping it into Maggie's outstretched palm. Maggie made a show of rubbing their money against her face triumphantly. Kara shrugged.  
"Her heartbeat. When Mike talks to Eve, or Karen, or Tracey, their heartbeats kick up like crazy," she said, stealing the last potsticker from Maggie's plate while she was busy making it rain with her ill gotten gains. "Hers hasn't changed at all."  
"Danvers!" Maggie slammed her palm against the table and shot Kara a filthy look, empty plate sitting accusingly before her.  
"Wha'?" Kara mumbled around the mouthful. 

The table fell silent as Mike sloped his way back to the seat beside James, and dropped into it with a bewildered sigh.  
"I have no idea what just happened," he said. "I mean, that's never happened to me before."  
"Aw, what?" Winn said, in his most insincere supportive voice. "You mean she's not coming to your game tomorrow?"  
"She didn't even want to talk to me!"  
"Awww poor Mike," Winn quipped, trying not to giggle. "Did she hurt your feelings?"  
"I'm not really sure an erection qualifies as a feeling," Maggie said, looking thoughtful as she sipped her coffee. 

James joined in on the ribbing, unable to resist Mike's kicked-puppy face in the light of his first rejection ever. Kara tuned them out, turning to look over at the woman who had earned Maggie forty dollars in the space of five minutes. She was beautiful, with alabaster skin framed by long, inky black curls and slightly severe rectangular glasses with flat black frames. The first thing they suggested to Kara was librarian. The second was dominatrix, and Kara was mortified at her own mind. She was definitely spending way too much time around Mike. She wished that her own glasses had a similar effect on her face, one of unintentional sexiness rather than the intentional nerdiness of her own frames. That was the reason for the thought, surely. 

Just as Kara was chiding herself, and as if the woman had heard her thoughts from across the room, her eyes flicked up and trapped her in a glittering green stare, but rather than the annoyance her face had worn while speaking to Mike, the girl shot her a tiny, barely there smile. Kara smiled back. She was a smiley person, she always smiled back when a pretty girl, when ANYONE, smiled at her. The girl's smile grew, and then Kara heard it. 

Her heart was racing. 

Oh. 

Oh.


	2. Strangeness & Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes excel at ordinary human behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am slightly overwhelmed and incredibly humbled by the response to my little slice of nonsense so far. To everybody that has left kudos and comments, and everybody just giving this their time, I appreciate you deeply. Please let me know if you would like to be able to yell at me on Twitter and i will make that happen. I apologise that these chapters have been quite short, but hopefully keeping the updates brief will ensure that they're more frequent.)

Kara didn’t think about The Girl Who Didn’t Give Mike Her Name. She didn’t find her mind constantly wandering back to that tiny, shy smile that bloomed like an Andraxian orchid for her, or how she had drawn Mike’s, and Kara’s, gaze from across the room even as she lurked in a corner, folded up as if she was trying to occupy the minimum possible amount of space. She didn’t wish that the girl had told Mike what her name was, because The Girl Who Didn’t Give Mike Her Name was a mouthful even inside her own head. She didn’t. She especially didn’t get so lost in thought pondering whether a person could have their own gravitational pull, could be a lead weight on the rubber sheet of the world, that she turned the two large pizzas in the oven into extra large charcoal briquettes and only noticed when the fire alarm goes off. And if she had, well, she was just curious. Anyone would be, right?

When Alex got home, it was to the sight of her sister gamely trying to coax a kitchen-sized smoke cloud out through the windows of their shared apartment with a tea towel. She froze in the doorway, hand hovering with keys halfway to the bowl.  
“You know what?” she said, letting the keys fall in with a thunk. “I don’t even want to know.” 

Kara shot Alex an apologetic half-grimace. Her sister was a police officer and always worked hard, but a bomb going off tended to put law enforcement on edge everywhere, and Alex had been running herself ragged the past week.  
“I’m really sorry, I promised Eliza I’d use the oven and I got kinda distracted, and I was going to fix it before you got home but the tea towel is sort of useless,” Kara said, waving around the tea towel for emphasis and almost taking out a shelf of mugs. Alex sighed, walked over, and Kara allowed herself to be gently disarmed. 

“I’m going to change out of this uniform, and call Lombardi’s, and if you happen to use your powers to get rid of this smoke while I’m in my room and can’t see you, then I couldn’t possibly rat you out to Mom,” Alex said, giving Kara a fond look as she tossed the towel of minor destruction over her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”  
“Yep! Fine!” Kara blurted, groaning inwardly at her own shrill tone. “Totally fine.” Alex just stared at her. 

“Um, why do you ask?” Kara said, pushing her glasses back up her nose and forcing herself to stand up straight in the face of Alex’s scrutiny. There would be no crinkle, she wouldn’t allow it.  
“Kara, it's FOOD, and you got distracted. Is it about Clark?”  
“What? No,” Kara stammered. “Clark’s fine, and they got the guy. You should remind Captain Henshaw of that, by the way. I’m starting to forget what you look like.”

It was weak, but Alex seemed to decide to take pity on her and disappeared into her room. Kara waited until she could hear Alex relaying their pizza order before taking a deep breath and venting the last cloying tendrils of acrid smoke through the open window. She was getting better, only one of the ferns on the windowsill looked frostbitten this time around, but she wasn’t about to admit to Alex that she’d been practicing. Clark was fine, this time, but she knew the day might come when the world needed more than just one Krytponian to protect it.   
That wasn’t the issue, but she was willing to let her sister believe it was. It was a simple assumption, a simple explanation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell Alex about the girl at Noonans, there was just nothing to tell. Nothing coherent, anyway. She needed to organise her thoughts first. It was silly, but the memory of that smile that had been just for her felt almost like a sacred thing, and she wanted to hold it close and keep it for herself, just for a little while longer. 

Later, when she was curled up on the couch in her pyjamas with the Netflix queue ready and waiting and Alex came back from answering the door with both pizza and potstickers, Kara wondered if maybe she might just have been crinkling without her express permission in spite of her best efforts. It would be nice if she could control her forehead as well as her powers. Alex didn’t push though, just piled a ridiculous amount of food in front of her and hit play on the supernatural western they were binging. Kara had food, and her sister, and women with big guns on screen, and she didn’t think about The Girl Who Didn’t Give Mike Her Name for the rest of the evening.

Only this time, she wasn’t lying to herself.

***

Lena was fine, she was fine. She was adjusting well and getting along with Aunt Jess, she’d figured out how to mostly tame her curls and adapted to wearing glasses everyday. She had mastered the art of avoiding all media coverage of the Metropolis incident after an early slip led to Jess having to coax her down from a panic attack via her closed bedroom door, but now, she was fine.

She was so fine, in fact, that the only possible reason she might not be fine was that she couldn’t seem to get a decent cup of tea anywhere in this chai-forsaken town. She kept ordering the bilgewater they served up at Noonans because she couldn’t take the aroma of coffee wafting up from her table for her entire lunch break, but she felt like she would crack in two and take this whole town with her if she couldn’t find an acceptable substitute for her favourite brew soon. 

She’d been pacing up and down the tea aisle of the grocery store, clenching and unclenching her fists and squinting in the harsh glare of the exposed bulbs above her for what felt like several thousand years, but her watch informed her had only been fifteen minutes, when she turned sharply on her heel and slammed straight into a body. Or possibly a pole. Maybe a wall, holy shit. She was flat on her back, her glasses flung somewhere out of reach. The back of her head stung where it had hit the tiles. The cracking sound it had made was going to stay with her.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!”  
The voice was bright and slightly brittle with concern.

Ah good, Lena had been sure that there hadn’t been a wall there. It was good to have confirmation that she wasn’t losing her mind. Yet, at least. 

“Are you okay?” the voice asked, and Lena risked opening her eyes, wincing at the stab of light that sliced through her optic nerve and into her brain like a chainsaw. “You whacked your head pretty hard there.”

“Urgh,” said Lena. Well done Luthor, ever articulate. “I’m okay, I think.”  
There was a blur kneeling beside her, hovering over her. A blonde blur. A pretty blonde blur. Holy shit, stop. 

The blur huffed out a nervous little laugh, as if Lena had expressed her thoughts out loud.  
“Um, you kind of did? Here,” the blur said, and Lena’s vision cleared as her glasses were gently lowered back onto her face, and if the Earth could open up and swallow Lena whole, that would be great, because apparently she couldn’t stop her thoughts from coming out of her mouth and she was being gently lifted to her feet by Coffee Shop Girl.  
“Coffee Shop Girl, huh?” the blonde said, and her smile blinded Lena more than the lights. “Well, it’s shorter than The Girl Who Didn’t Give Mike Her Name, I’ll give you that.”

“Oh god, it’s still happening. I’m so sorry,” Lena managed, trying to clamber bodily over her own mortification. “I think I saw some duct tape in the next aisle over. That should help.” 

“If you think I’m going to actively prevent you from saying I’m pretty, I might have to take you to the hospital to have you checked for a head injury,” the blonde said, with a little wink that almost, almost distracted Lena from the blush climbing her cheeks. “I’m Kara, the neighbourhood’s Clumsy Coffee Shop Girl. Just hold still.”

“Lena. Well, Helena, but you can call me Lena,” she said, fighting to prevent her head falling back into Kara’s hands as fingertips probed the sensitive area at the back of her skull, yelping as they pressed into her aching neck. Kara hummed softly and withdrew her hands.

“You’re gonna have an impressive lump for a couple of days, probably a headache and maybe some whiplash but I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken,” Kara said.  
“Are you a medical student?” Lena asked, wincing slightly at the eruption of laughter from the other girl. So worth it, she thought.  
“God no,” Said Kara, nudging her glasses back up her nose. Lena resisted the urge to melt into a puddle right then and there. “Media relations. My sister’s a cop, so I’ve kind of picked up practical first aid from her by osmosis.”  
“Well, I thank you both for your heroic service,” Lena drawled in her worst American accent, and was rewarded with another small eruption of giggles from Mount Kara. God, she was tall. And solid. It had been like walking into a girder. A girder with eyes as blue as the ocean. Oh god, stop.

Jess picked that exact moment to earn herself a metaphorical medal in saving Lena from further embarrassment by swinging her laden shopping cart around the corner and into the aisle.  
“You’ve been here for ages Lena, please tell me you’ve found at least one tea you can live with,” Jess said, and then broke into a grin as she saw Kara. “Miss Danvers, good to see you. That book you ordered for Professor Grant’s module came in this morning, swing by for it on Monday.” She turned her attention back to Lena. “Have you conquered the challenge of what we consider to be tea?”

“Sorry, Aunt Jess,” Lena said, rubbing the bump swelling into existence on her skull self-consciously. “You’re just going to have to ship me back to Ireland, I’ll never survive in these heathen lands.” It was hardly a joke, but Lena felt better than she had all day when both Kara and Jess laughed, shiny new headache notwithstanding. Kara was looking at them with far more fondness than any stranger had any right to expect, and Lena felt the same tug she had the previous day when she’d looked up to ensure Matt? Miles? To ensure Basketball Guy had retreated to a safe distance and seen this beautiful girl smiling at her instead. She wished she didn’t know what the fluttering in her stomach and the dampening of her palms meant, but she was intimately familiar. 

It was such a bad idea. It was such a small town. Lena didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. She was yanked out of her thoughts when Kara spoke again.

“Welp, I better be going,” she said, flashing them both her fifty thousand megawatt smile. “Alex is working a double and I promised there would be ice cream waiting for her when she gets home. Thanks again for ordering that book for me, Ms Hargrove, I’ll definitely pop into the store on Monday.” 

She gave Lena a little wave and then was gone, disappearing into a different aisle in search of ice cream, or possibly somebody else to bump into. Lena felt oddly like she was standing inside the incredibly specific area of destruction for a small, localised hurricane. She pulled herself together, trailing behind Aunt Jess as they made their way to the cashiers.

“Kara’s a lovely girl,” Jess said, using her patented gentle tone that Lena wasn’t sure she would ever really get used to. “I’m glad you’re meeting people, making friends.”

“Yeah,” Lena said thoughtfully. “Friends.”


	3. Sunday Morning (A Minor Intermission)

When Lena woke on Sunday morning the headache had calmed from skull splitting to a dull ache, but painkillers were definitely on her personal breakfast menu. She peeled her head off the pillow and poured herself out of bed, then stumbled across the hallway to dig through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom Jess insisted on referring to as Lena’s. She kept making space for Lena in her life, in her home, and Lena was trying hard to get comfortable with occupying that space, even when her old instincts and new instincts had her tangled up in knots as to the appropriate way to respond to an unexpected hug or supportive comment. 

She tucked a bottle of ibuprofen into the pockets of the cotton shorts she'd slept in, and it rattled merrily against her thigh as she followed the tantalising scent of bacon downstairs to the kitchen where Jess was flipping eggs and stacking toast to the soft beat of the radio. Lena allowed herself a moment to hover in the doorway, heart aching at the loveliness of the sight. Lillian had never made her breakfast, had never danced as far as Lena was aware, and this was one of those moments where she found herself knotted beyond all hope of disentanglement. 

Lena cleared her throat before stepping into the room, and Jess turned around with a smile so wide and blinding Lena's head throbbed.   
"Morning kiddo," said Jess, dropping a laden plate in front of Lena as she wriggled herself into the barstool that Jess insisted on referring to as Lena’s. "Juice? We have orange, or apple."

“Orange please,” said Lena, accepting the frankly ridiculously massive glass of pulpy goodness gratefully. She shook a couple of pills out of the bottle from her pocket into her palm, and washed them down with a long draft from her glass as she watched Jess groove her way across the kitchen, pans stacked and ready to go into the sink. Her eyes moved to the radio. Whatever music the radio station was playing, she didn’t recognise it, and she was so focused on attempting to deconstruct it, or even to identify a single recognisable instrument that contributed to it, that she jumped when Jess squeezed her shoulder and dropped a kiss on top of her head. 

“I have to meet with a buyer in about an hour,” Jess said, dropping into her own seat and skewering several rashers of bacon with her fork. She had a habit of breezing right past Lenas more uncomfortable displays, bless her, and treating her like she was a normal person perfectly accustomed to receiving affection. “But if your head still hurts later, text me, and I’ll swing by the drug store and bring home the good stuff. And is there anything special you want to do for your birthday next weekend?”

“Text you?” said Lena, carefully arranging strips of bacon on a slice of toast before draping her egg on top and piercing the yolk. Carefully side-stepping the birthday issue for the moment too, that was definitely a conversation better left for another day. Preferably an extremely distant one, possibly after Lena was dead. “Marcus told me that my phone could be tracked, I had to leave it behind in my dorm room.”

It had been a sore point, but Lena understood why. Understanding something doesn’t automatically mean liking it, however. She missed the ability to reach out and pluck information from the ether whenever she needed it, missed having an instant connection to humanity’s repository of hard-won knowledge. And cat videos, oh man, she missed the cat videos. She had wanted a cat all her life, but her father had claimed allergies, and so she lived vicariously through other people’s YouTube accounts.

“Mmmph,” Jess managed around a mouthful of bacon, holding up a finger that meant ‘wait one moment’ to all those fluent in the universal language of grunting and gestures. She disappeared into the next room, but returned less than ten seconds later, sliding a pre-paid smartphone across the counter to bump against Lena”s wrist. “My number is saved in there, and so is the one for that phone. Just promise me you’ll be smart. No social media, no contacting any old friends, no turning on location data at any time for any reason. This town is tiny, you can buy a map at a gas station if you really need to. Okay?”

Lena took the phone and looked down at the rectangle of glass, aluminum, and plastic in her hands. It was utterly generic, completely nondescript, nothing at all like the bleeding edge, top-of-the-line piece of tech she had massively overpaid for only to abandon less than three months later. It was the best gift she had ever received. She felt her throat constrict, heat and pressure building in her sinuses and eye sockets.

“I promise,” Lena said, voice choked only slightly. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a perfect hug. Jess was turned to the side, heading back to her seat when Lena threw her arms around her, letting Jess’s thick sweater wick away the tears that overflowed in spite of her best efforts. But when Jess wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her back just as tightly, she decided it was pretty good for a first attempt.


	4. A Part Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had stopped by Hargrove Books for Ms Grants assigned text after her last class, but Ms Hargrove had refused the money Kara had tried to hand over and almost pushed both her and Lena out through the door with the gentle, but insistent, suggestion that they take a walk and enjoy the sunshine. Kara had suggested the park, and she must have sold the ice cream stand and the river with the benches and the ducks really well because Lena had been more than happy to follow along behind her.

"How's your head?" Kara asked, leading Lena through the gates of the tiny town's only park. "And did you find tea? What's the deal with the tea, by the way? I've never seen someone glare at a set of shelves like they wanted to murder every box on them." 

She had stopped by Hargrove Books for Ms Grants assigned text after her last class, but Ms Hargrove had refused the money Kara had tried to hand over and almost pushed both her and Lena out through the door with the gentle, but insistent, suggestion that they take a walk and enjoy the sunshine. Kara had suggested the park, and she must have sold the ice cream stand and the river with the benches and the ducks really well because Lena had been more than happy to follow along behind her. 

"Still attached," Lena said. "Which is really all I can ask for. And sadly, no." 

She fidgeted with her fingers, like she was trying to twist rings she'd forgotten to wear that day. Kara's eyes were inexorably drawn by the motion, and she found herself wondering if Lena played the piano, or possibly the violin, before she was swerving to avoid colliding with a labrador retriever straining at its leash. 

"And it's not about the tea," Lena continued, mercifully oblivious to Kara's embarrassment. "Well, it is, but mostly it's about the comfort of familiarity. Jess has been great about making me feel at home, but I've never been the best at dealing with change and everything here is so… alien. Everything is different, wrong. The food, the tea, the water. Sometimes it feels like being here's the best thing that ever happened to me, but sometimes I just want to set the grocery store on fire."

"Well, how long do you have to go without the good leaf water while you're here visiting your aunt?"

The conversation had been light and casual for the few minutes it had taken to navigate the streets and alleyways on the way to their destination, but the woman who had been gliding along beside her was suddenly humming, tense as a bowstring, heartbeat thundering like a stampede against Kara's over-sensitive eardrums. 

"I don't rightly know," Lena began, suddenly developing a keen interest in studying the cracks in the concrete passing beneath their feet. "My family situation kind of went to shite unexpectedly, more so than usual, and Jess stepped up." 

Kara said nothing, leaving a hole in the conversation she hoped Lena would be inclined to fill. It was a trick she'd learned from Eliza, a dirty one that she'd never been able to resist. Kara, like most people, would pour her words into the cavernous silence, but Lena just seemed to withdraw, wrapping the silence around herself like a cloak. A strange and unusual skill, so perhaps a different approach? She bumped her shoulder into Lena's gently, careful not to send her sprawling into the bushes, but not gently enough to prevent her stumbling just a little. 

"Do I have to whack you over the head to get you talking again? Don't think I'm above it," Kara teased. "Dazed Lena is fun, and chatty."

Lena rewarded Kara's efforts with a tiny huff, the hollow ghost of a laugh but it felt like a reward all the same. 

"Do you think things happen for a reason?" asked Lena, steadying herself by tucking her hand around Kara's arm and into the crook of her elbow, warmth pooling and spreading up Kara’s arm and into her chest as they walked on. It was fine, it was good even. Friendly closeness. It wasn't like Lena had taken her hand, but a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach as if she had.

"I mean, reasons beyond the obvious 'things happen because other things happened first' or 'things happen because sometimes you're stupid and make bad decisions' reasons." Lena said. 

"You mean like Fate, or some kind of divine plan?" Kara said, distracted. She'd spotted Frankie, the ice cream man, ahead under his bright multi-coloured umbrella and plunged her free hand into her pocket, fingers twisting through fabric and folded notes for some change. Her wallet dug into her opposite hip as they walked, Lena barely swaying into her with every other step. Wild horses couldn't drag her arm out of Lena's grasp to grab it, though. "You don't really go in for small talk, do you?" 

"I suppose they've just been on my mind lately," Lena said, rolling her eyes and squeezing Kara's arm in response to her teasing. "We all have our reasons for doing things, how we justify our choices, and we all look for the reasons why things happen. But are reasons even real, or just connections we make for our own comfort?" 

“You know, there’s a reason I didn’t pick up a philosophy module when I was choosing my courses,” said Kara as they drew up to the cart where Frankie was handing out vanilla cones to a gaggle of school children. “Would you like an ice cream to go with your existential crisis?”

Lena shook her head and released Kara’s arm to allow her to join the short queue, and Kara watched her as she headed over to one of the riverside benches Kara pointed out, making herself comfortable in the shade of a tree and grinning at the ducklings paddling in the shallows nearby. Kara wasn’t staring, she was just... appreciating the aesthetic of Lena’s pale skin glowing like a beacon in a small patch of shadow surrounded by a landscape awash in sunshine. She was appreciating it so intently that Frankie had called her name several times before she realised that the kids who’d been standing around her had evaporated and she’d been holding up the couples and housewives behind her. Frankie, meanwhile, had her customary two cones held aloft, and she stammered her thanks before putting the money on the counter and tucking a small stack of napkins under her arm, resisting the urge to bolt back to Lena as soon as she had a sticky confection grasped in each hand.

"So," said Kara, flopping onto the bench beside Lena, napkins fluttering onto the planks between them. "Have you been looking for reasons, or looking to avoid giving them?" 

Lena groaned and began gathering the fallen napkins and stacking them absently into a pile, squaring each edge and corner with mathematical precision. Kara watched Lena's hands, fingers precise and meticulous, even as dairy and sugar melted and pooled between her own.

"Neither? Either?" Lena sighed. "Both, maybe." 

She raised an eyebrow at Kara double fisting ice cream cones, and Kara just shrugged and smiled as she brought both up to her mouth and gave each a lick. Shoving them into her mouth whole was probably not the best way to win friends and influence people, but Lena giggled when her second stroke, slightly over-enthusiastic, left a smear across her chin. She gestured helplessly with her occupied hands when Lena offered her a napkin from the top of the pile, and then her lungs seized and her heart was fluttering against her ribs because Lena had reached out and was wiping the cold streak away, eyes fixed on Kara's dumbstruck mouth. 

The sensation went on and on for a million years and then suddenly Lena was turning away, balled-up napkin in hand and destined for a nearby trash can, and Kara was dragging in a desperate breath. Lena turned back and Kara tried to focus on hearing her voice over the thundering of blood in her own ears. 

"I had all these plans," Lena seemed to be saying, as she reclaimed her seat and placed the little pile of napkins gently into Kara's lap. "I thought if I could just get away…"

Her voice trailed off for a moment and then she was clearing her throat, staring at the flowing water while Kara grabbed the opportunity to abandon decorum and demolish the first ice cream cone. At least she'd be able to manage her own napkins, and hopefully avoid another minor cardiac incident. Her hands were shaking, weird, but she had no time to dwell on that, because Lena seemed to be spiraling in her strange, silent logic again. She poked her elbow into Lena's side, and the woman beside her flushed and cleared her throat, back suddenly ramrod straight. 

"It's my birthday on Saturday, and my aunt's been asking if I want to do something, which is sweet of her, but it's all sort of doing my head in, because I had plans," Lena babbled, hands twisting in her lap again. The urge to reach out and place a calming hand over those fretful ones was almost overwhelming. Birthday! Focus! 

"Birthday plans back home?" said Kara, settling for resting her hand on Lena's forearm just long enough to feel the coiled spring of tension between them begin to ease. "You know, some of my friends are throwing a party this weekend. If you wanted to celebrate, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to have you along. I know I would." 

Oh boy. But Lena just smiled, and the warmth of Kara's rising blush mingled with a different kind of warmth nestled deep within her chest. 

"Thank you," said Lena. "Truly. But I've always kind of hated parties." 

"How does anyone hate parties?" Kara asked, trying to ignore her sinking disappointment at the prospect of Lena not attending a party she hadn't been attending thirty seconds previously. 

"My parents would throw one on my birthday every year, but it was never for me, or even about me," said Lena, shrugging, just the hint of sadness weaving through her words. "It was always just a… display, where I had to show up and smile. Something I had to be grateful for and endure, whether I wanted it or not."

Kara wanted to say something, anything, but digesting the concept of Lena not wanting to celebrate her birthday felt like swallowing a rock. She loved her Earth Birthday, she and Alex made increasingly extravagant plans every year. 

"Besides, it's a new moon this weekend," said Lena, derailing that particular train of thought. "Perfect for stargazing. Apparently Jess has a telescope gathering dust in the attic somewhere, so I was thinking I'll dig that out, set it up on the lawn, make a thermos of hot chocolate, maybe spike it with some scotch. It's not exactly what I had planned, but plans change."

"Well, stargazing sounds like a great plan," said Kara, grateful that the prospect of a dark night and a thermos seemed to have chased the melancholy from Lena's voice. A plan began to blossom, maybe there was something Kara could do to make this birthday a good one for Lena, who was looking down at her phone with a wry expression on her face. 

"I should get back to the shop," said Lena, tucking her phone away and running her hands along her thighs, as if her palms had been sweating, but her smile was back and aimed squarely at Kara. "Thanks for the walk, and the ducks. It felt really good to stretch my legs and get some air. We should do it again some time."

Kara stood when Lena did, and they hovered awkwardly as they said their goodbyes. Kara was a hugger, she never hesitated, but there was something new, something nervous in the air between them now, part of her afraid that Lena would bolt like a frightened animal if Kara threw her arms around her. And so she watched Lena go, calling out a promise to drop by the store again when she could and returning the grin and the wave she got in response. 

She stood there for a long time, long after Lena had disappeared from her sight and she'd lost the sound of her heartbeat amid the din of human industry. She stood, staring blinding across the water, until long after the utterly forgotten cone in her left hand had soaked through to mush, and the last napkin was carried away by the wind. She stood there, trying and failing to unravel the knots inside her chest.


End file.
